Subway Ride to Hell
by anonyreaderfan
Summary: John's feelings during the subway ride with Marla. An opportunity for me to try writing from a first person perspective.


Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People is the property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

~ X ~

Why did it have to be me? Why did I have to be the only one that could be spared and knew where to find Marla? I couldn't ask Stephen to do it. He deserved every possible moment with Roger in case . . . well, in case.

The only saving grace is that Marla didn't ask too many questions. Didn't require too much convincing. She was an OR nurse and trained to react quickly and decisively. When I told her it was important, she searched my face and must have read something in it because she closed her mouth and packed a blue bag with supplies. There was no hesitating over her choices, and she was ready within ten minutes.

I got her to the closest subway station in record time, guiding her to the end where the cars were usually empty. It wasn't rush hour so we lucked out getting on one with no other riders. She sat next to me, and I prayed. _Please don't ask me. Please don't ask._

How do I explain to her what it was like? Why I shot her husband. Why I killed her husband. I say it to myself, and I can't believe it. Jedikiah was my world. He was my father, my friend, my teacher, my commander. It doesn't seem real now and at the same time it was yesterday.

How do I tell her that I relive that moment over and over again in my dreams? Or rather my nightmares.

How do you say something like that? Hey, your brother-in-law said to kill your husband so I did it.

She's seated sideways, her body angled towards mine, while I sit dead straight staring out the windows on the other side of the car. I could see out of the corner of my eye her turning completely towards me. "Why don't you just tell me what's going on, John?" Her voice was so kind, so calm.

I wouldn't, couldn't look at her. Part of me wanted to scream. _Shut up!_

"You need to see it for yourself," is all I say.

I feel my knee jerking up and down from nerves. Luckily, the subway is so bouncy she might not notice that I was helping to shake the bench we sat on. I thought about forcing myself to stop, but it wasn't worth the effort. It somehow helped me bear the tension.

I kept playing with my hands too, scratching the inside of my palm. I couldn't even think about stopping that because if I did I might lose it and just teleport out of there. Leave her sitting there on the subway not knowing what was going on. For a moment the urge almost overwhelmed me. Teleport out of here. Away from her. Away from everything. She would reach out to Stephen. He would come get her. I could leave it all behind. The disappointment if Roger didn't make it. The accusing stares. I would never feel the pain if Roger didn't wake up or worse woke up and died again. The urge was so strong I could feel my eyes start to water. I quickly suppressed it.

I could live with him being dead. Had lived with him being dead for six years. But to think . . . to dare to dream that he might live again. I don't think I could have that kind of hope and then have him die on me a second time while his wife and son watched. Please God don't let me go through that again.

She tries a different tactic on me. "Most people who require surgical supplies also require a hospital." She's treating me like a patient in shock, speaking in a calm reasonable voice, leaning her body towards me.

"I know."

"It's not Stephen, is it?" She's reaching for what in her mind is the worst thing she can imagine.

"No."

My refusal to elaborate is frustrating her. "John, talk to me." She tries to reassure me. "Look, whatever it is, it's gonna be okay."

"You don't know that." Now I turn to meet her eyes. I can't let her build up false hopes, while at the same time I can't understand that attitude. Hasn't she run from place to place, living under false names? Has life been that good for her that she still believes in fairy tale endings? Is it just me that never takes anything for granted? I'll say one thing for being raised by Jedikiah. I always assume the worst . . . no rose colored glasses for me.

When I turn back to stare straight ahead, watching the tunnel walls flash by in the car window, she acknowledges the truth of what I said. "Right. I don't. I guess it's just something mother's do."

I wouldn't know. I never had a mother and Jedikiah never sugar coated anything. The signs flashing by warn me that we're nearing the place where we teleport to the lair. I sigh and shift in my seat. "Ya ready?"

I meet her gaze and realize how stupid what I just said sounds. "Dumb question."

We stand, and I put my hand on the back of her arm. There is such a churning in the pit of my stomach. I don't think I've ever dreaded anything as much as I dread what's coming. I don't know much about religion. No one ever cared enough to take me to a church. But if my hell will always be the moment I killed Roger then my purgatory will be the subway ride with Marla.

I teleport us out.

~ FIN ~


End file.
